No, the debt is not to me. You owe a very humble apology to that noble
lad, your son, who has carried himself in this matter as I should be
proud to see my own son do, should I ever chance to have one.
Then it was not Arthur who took them?
I told you yesterday, and I repeat to-day, that it was not.
You are sure of it! Then let us hurry to him at once to let him know
that the truth is known.
He knows it already. When I had cleared it all up I had an interview
with him, and finding that he would not tell me the story, I told it to
him, on which he had to confess that I was right and to add the very
few details which were not yet quite clear to me. Your news of this
morning, however, may open his lips.
For Heaven s sake, tell me, then, what is this extraordinary mystery!
I will do so, and I will show you the steps by which I reached it. And
let me say to you, first, that which it is hardest for me to say and
for you to hear: there has been an understanding between Sir George
Burnwell and your niece Mary. They have now fled together.
My Mary? Impossible!
It is unfortunately more than possible; it is certain. Neither you nor
your son knew the true character of this man when you admitted him into
your family circle. He is one of the most dangerous men in England a
ruined gambler, an absolutely desperate villain, a man without heart or
conscience. Your niece knew nothing of such men. When he breathed his
vows to her, as he had done to a hundred before her, she flattered
herself that she alone had touched his heart. The devil knows best what
he said, but at least she became his tool and was in the habit of
seeing him nearly every evening.
I cannot, and I will not, believe it! cried the banker with an ashen
face.
I will tell you, then, what occurred in your house last night. Your
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